Just Like Glass
by Miss Nihilist
Summary: Familiar images flashed to mind: burning cities and leveled civilizations replaced by island after island of quant Viking villages, filled with fleeing citizens wearing furs and waving useless axes, a mountain of human bodies being torn into and feasted upon by his followers, the rivers and oceans running red because victims bled the same no matter what era it was in.


**A/N: The crossover that no one asked for, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. It's part of a full-length crossover I've been toying with, taking place after the first HTTYD movie (before the second) and during the second season of TSS, but before "_The Legion of Garuda_" ****— so there are spoilers if you haven't finished at least season one of the show (not to mention you probably won't understand what's happening).**** I'm posting this because I probably won't write the full thing, but I liked this bit anyway.**

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"_Woah, woah…_" Hiccup soothed with practiced gentleness. He set his hand on the dragon's muzzle, petting as though it was a large house cat and not a five-hundred-pound deadly cryptid that could crush the lanky teen with a side-swipe of that powerful tail.

As terrified as he knew he should be, Zak couldn't deny that he was equal parts fascinated and amazed. Being raised by cryptozoologists made him insanely curious. If he ran his hand over that sleek hide, would it be rough or smooth? It could shoot plasma blasts, hotter than regular fire, but what else could it do? Every bit of its body was obviously built for speed, but how fast was it, really?

"_Auðvelt, brum…_" Continued Hiccup, oblivious to Zak's thoughts. "_Róaðu, það er allt í lagi. Hann er _friend."

Despite the narrowed eyes of the dragon and its loud growling, Zak's gaze darted to Hiccup when he heard that last word. It was the only part of Hiccup's calming mantra that he understood, but they _had _only been practicing Nordic for a few days. Zak was surprised to recognize any of it.

_'Friend,'_ huh?

He jumped back when the dragon, snarling louder, pushed forward. For whatever reason, it didn't knock Hiccup out of the way. The boy was leaning all of his weight on the cryptid's massive head, muttering in a way that sounded both pleading and exasperated. Even as his prosthetic leg dug into the dirt, offering no traction whatsoever, Hiccup refused to back away or lessen his hissed flow of words. He was starting to sound upset — then again, based on the way the dragon was glaring daggers at Zak, Hiccup wasn't the only one who was less than pleased.

"Dragons," said Hiccup with a tense smile over his shoulder. That word, Zak had grown very familiar with — he had to, to live in a strange village full of the cryptids. He easily recognized the clipped consonants and sharp vowels. "_Tannlaust, hvað hefur farið í þig? Hann er ekki ógn. Hann nær varla að haka mínum…_"

Whatever Hiccup was saying seemed to have little effect. The dragon stopped approaching, but it was baring its razor-sharp teeth at Zak and its talons were digging into the dirt as though the boy's flimsy hold on its wide head was the only thing keeping it from tearing the stranger's head off. The threat of imminent death wasn't so much implied as it was written in large, bold lettering.

Hiccup noticed too, scowling as his next words came out sounding like a reprimand. The dragon's piercing gaze never left Zak's, but the cryptid was listening if the twitching of its ear flaps meant anything. Its eyes kept jerking as though it wanted to look at Hiccup, but because doing so meant taking its attention away from Zak, it resisted the urge.

Apparently feeling more secure with the dragon having decided to stay put, Hiccup sighed and turned to Zak. Regardless, he kept his hand firmly on the dragon's snout, its nostrils flaring in response as though using the boy's scent to reassure itself. The thought that a ninety-pound teenager barely older than Zak himself was the only thing keeping that dragon from ripping his throat out wasn't a comforting thought. Even if the cryptid did, for whatever reason, listen to him. Maybe Zak would get that story once he understood more Nordic.

"You." Hiccup pointed to Zak. "Not like." He pointed to the dragon — as if he could be talking about anything else. "Know why?"

Even with choppy and bare-bones sentences, Zak quickly pieced together what Hiccup was asking. He opened his mouth and just as quickly closed it. Zak knew, or at least suspected, the reason why the dragon — and all of the others in the village — hated him. It was only that he had no idea how to explain it.

The dragon snarled, shifting its massive body to whip its tail around. Instead of knocking Hiccup over, like Zak half-expected it to, the tail settled at the teen's feet and the dragon twisted in a half-circle so that most of Hiccup was safely hidden from Zak's line of sight by the sleek, pitch-black body of the dragon instead. Hiccup sighed, running a hand along the dragon's spine as he spoke, his tone chastizing, but Zak was no longer paying attention.

He swallowed thickly, eyes widening at the confirmation. Familiar images flashed to mind: burning cities and leveled civilizations replaced by island after island of quant Viking villages, filled with terrified and fleeing citizens wearing furs and waving useless axes, a mountain of human bodies being torn into and feasted upon by his eager followers, the rivers and oceans running red because victims bled the same color no matter what era it was in.

The fire behind that dragon's eyes wasn't orange or glowing, yet the determination was there all the same and with it, came new visions that Zak didn't recognize. A Queen, larger-than-life and forceful. Starving, not for food, but _power_. The iron-fisted rule was all that this dragon had ever known. Kindness and understanding — those were all new, and those were to be cherished. Protected.

And dragons may have been cryptids and Kur may have been their King — their _God_ — but there was clearly _nothing _that was going to keep that particular dragon from defending his human. Not even an all-powerful being older than any living species on the planet. Not even if it was fate. Not even if the arbiter of such a catastrophe happened to be a twelve-year-old boy.

Because Kur was the scourge of the human race and Hiccup was very much _human_. Zak was not.

He looked away from Hiccup and his answer came muttered in English. "How should I know? I don't read minds, dude." Not because he couldn't have managed a reply, but because Zak couldn't bear to deny it and he couldn't tell the truth, either.

He didn't blame the dragon for being hostile. It was right — Zak _was _a monster.


End file.
